Monday, August 16, 2010

Paella is one of those dishes you can't just wing. I mean, I don't doubt that some of you are capable of doing it, but, there's nothing worse than a mediocre paella. It's kind of like mediocre sushi. You just don't want to go there. So there's really no surprise as to why I haven't sought out paella since I was in the south of Spain.

Four years ago.

Insane, right? But I just couldn't risk marring the perfection of my fond memories of having paella in Marbella. The creamy, almost risotto-like rice, punched up with tons of lemon zest and a hint of saffron perfume with razor clams and mussels and squid and pieces of white fish and I just couldn't have added or taken away a single element of the dish to improve the experience. It's a truly humbling dish.

So when I had the opportunity to visit Soccarat Paella bar with two lovely ladies, I was, at first, a bit nervous. How would this paella compare?

But first, let's oogle over some wine, shall we?

And more specifically, let's talk about Albarino. Back in June, I was lucky enough to attend the Albarino Food and Wine Pairing Event hosted by W.R. Tish, who praised Albarino for its acidity. And its acidity is what makes it a dream pairing for food. I know I've been singing the praises of Riesling ad nauseum (and hey, it's for good reason) but Albarino plays the same sort of game on your palate. A citrusy zing to add that perfect amount of vibrancy to your meal. And the one pictured above did that gorgeously.

Oh and the paella? Let's just say that whole "fear" flew right out the door as soon as this handsome paella was ushered to our table. Flavor for days. Every element cooked just right. And when chased with a sip of MarquésdeVizhojaAlbarino? Game over, my friends. Game. Over.

2 comments:

Holy crap that looks good! You just took me from that after coffee total lack of appetite place to dreaming of lunch. I've had some sub par paellas and only a few really good ones. But when done right it is a work of art for sure.

Love the Albarino! Before I succumbed to an all out 'Summer of Riesling'I was digging the high acid whites. Albarino was definitely a favorite along a similar vein I was digging Torrontes and Gruner Veltliners. That razor shard acidity is so refreshing, even when out of balance slightly. Great post...officially salivating now!

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who i am

When faced with the question of what food means to me, conversation inevitably shifts to my Mor-Mor (Swedish for Grandmother): A phenomenal cook who refused help in the kitchen and didn't believe in recipes. The real deal, if you will.

Mor-Mor had a seriously strong hand with garlic (surprisingly for a Swede) and an innate knack for making anything taste implausibly delicious. There was always a jar of homemade garlic oil in her fridge which found its way drizzled on top of almost everything. Like one of her breakfast treats: homemade bread slathered with garlic oil, a few slices of granny smith apple, and topped with extra sharp cheddar. Into her beloved toaster oven they'd go until the cheese had just melted, lovingly, over the apples. The salty-sweet combination could make your head spin—a beautiful cohesion of flavors and textures from such an unexpected pairing.

And then there were her meatballs. With her homemade tomato sauce made from tomatoes grown in her garden, picked when perfectly plump and warm from the summer sun, a ladle of garlic oil, and tons of parsley (Mor-Mor may or may not have been secretly Italian), they sent eyeballs rolling to the backs of people’s heads. The thought alone of her in that kitchen makes my heart long, once again, for her cooking. For her.

Now when I'm cooking, I finally understand her insistence on navigating the kitchen alone. There's something about getting in there and winding down and having your own personal space to create that’s beyond therapeutic—it’s wholly fulfilling and soul-satisfying.